Was it possible that he had come to London in order to hide, knowing that the Metropolis is the best place to secrete oneself in all the world.
Next day at noon I sat in the schoolroom at Sibberton, listening to the opening of the Coroner’s inquiry into the tragedy. The facts having already got into the papers, the small room was crowded to suffocation by villagers and outsiders. The jury had viewed the body over at the Stanchester Arms opposite, and after a few introductory remarks from the Coroner, a solicitor from Northampton, I was called as the first witness.
I told how I had obtained the assistance of the publican Warr, and described how we had found the body of the murdered man. Then, when I had concluded, the foreman of the jury, a man who combined the avocation of baker and local preacher, asked—
“What first aroused your attention?”
“I heard a noise,” I replied. I did not intend to tell them the truth—that it was a woman’s cry. “A noise from behind the trees in the avenue,” I added. “It was very dark at that point.”
“You saw no one?”
“Nobody. I came to the village at once for assistance.”
“Any other questions to ask?” inquired the Coroner of the jury.
“I would like, sir, to inquire whether Mr Woodhouse had any suspicion of the body having been searched before he discovered it?” asked Redway, the police officer.
My answer was a negative one. I feared he was about to question me regarding the footprints, and held my breath in fear and expectation.